


Seventh Wheel

by narutophobia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Blushing, Confessions, Light Angst, M/M, Post Season 2 (shiro's gone), Time Travel, bc theyre like broganes, but everyone's pretty bummed about it, child keith is honestly sorta moody? but also adorable? and sulky, child!Keith, jeremy shada......if you're reading this............., keith actually cares a lot, keith has a very bad memory bC HE NEVER SLEEPS, keith is affected by shiro's absence the most, keith just wants some love, lance is good with kids, lance is insecure about his place in voltron, lance is just a ball of insecurity and feelings, light fluff, or affection, she/her pronouns for pidge, slow burn?, so they're arguing a lot, the universe is hinting at klance and honestly? same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9927575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narutophobia/pseuds/narutophobia
Summary: Keith is (even more) irritable since Shiro's gone, and Lance just seems to want to constantly pick fights with him. Well, more than usual, because why doesKeithget the black lion!? So, Hunk magnanimously opts for a bonding session. Remember, there are no secrets between paladins!From there, things progress.Dramatically."You've messed up my hair!""Believe me, it only gets worse from here," Lance reassured."What do you mean?" Keith asked, lowering his hands suspiciously."Nothing," Lance quickly said. He's watched Kim Possible, and he knows you don’t fuck with the past.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this spiraled out of control it started out as an idea and transformed into a 11,000-word monster. Believe me, this was meant to be way longer but I decided to cut out the end since I was satisfied with how it ends, but there's more if you guys want some.
> 
> if there are any mistakes im sorry im so tired lol 
> 
> so jeremy shada......if you're reading this........*slides u $3*.........how about that klance in season 3

Bickering is something the Voltron Crew had grown accustomed to.

Dinner times, while everybody ate their food goo, usually ended up in a few heated words exchanged between Lance and Keith. It was commonplace. Keith said something normal, Lance made a snide comment (not so) underneath his breath, Keith retaliated and it went from there. Without Shiro — which had made Keith even _more_ irritable when it came to Lance's remarks — there was no voice of reason to calm down their fights.

Hunk, being the most magnanimous of the group (excluding Shiro), had suggested a bonding exercise. Well, it was _Coran_ who actually suggested the idea, but Hunk was the one who actually suggested _what_ they should do. Pidge also agreed, saying that they should give it a shot.

So, Keith and Lance had no choice but to agree.

"So, let's start with simple questions, shall we?" Allura chimed from above, sitting cosily in the booth towering overhead. "What is everybody's favourite colour?" Allura asked through the microphone as it echoed down to the paladins who were sitting on the group comfortably.

Keith's eyebrow furrowed. "Do we even have to do this?"

Pidge rolled their eyes. "Yes, we do. Because _someone,_ " she looked at Keith, "and _somebody else,_ " cue a finger pointing in Lance's direction, "won't get along. And it's affecting our teamwork."

"Teamwork? Shiro's not here to control the black lion. We won't be forming Voltron anytime soon," Keith reminded them with a scowl.

" _Paladins_." Allura's stern voice echoed from above, flooding the room; the paladins looked up, halting their — Keith and Lance's, to be more specific, but they were a team so everybody got blamed equally — arguments. "Stop with this squabbling! You are reverting back to when you _first_ arrived here and couldn't form Voltron!" She sounded exasperated. Everybody was. Everyone knew why _Keith_ was on edge, but so was Lance. It wasn't a very good combination.

"Uh, _second_ day, actually," Hunk reminded her. 

Pidge hit Hunk's side. "You're not helping the situation," she whispered sharply underneath her breath.

Keith grimaced and looked at Lance. Lance stared right back, before they both huffed and turned away from each other, clearly annoyed. Keith contemplated his options for a moment. Shiro's words — _patience yields focus_ — echoed in his mind. He _knew_ Shiro would be telling him — _them_ — off if he was here now, and this is something Shiro would want him — _them_ — to do.

"Fine," Keith said, his voice clipped.

"Lance?"

Lance hummed in agreement, crossing his long legs and sitting with his back straight, signalling that he was also going to take part.

"Okay, good. Now, favourite colour. Mine's green," Pidge started.

"Yellow."

"Red."

"Blue."

They all stared at each other for a moment. "Pretty strange how our lions match our favourite colours, huh?" 

". . . So, do you think Shiro's favourite colour is black?" Lance asked.

"Purple," Keith said. "His favourite colour is purple."

The paladins looked at each other for a moment, before their eyes stared at the floor below them. Without Shiro, the castle seemed emptier. They didn’t know where he was, and the black lion wasn't helping them find him at all; they didn’t even know where to _start_ looking for him, and without Voltron, walking into Zarkon's lair was straight up suicide.

"Next question," Allura chimed, sounding quite cheery through the microphone, not reading the situation properly. "What is everybody's favourite memory? And remember to be _completely_ honest. There should be no secrets between paladins, or it will compromise you working as a team. You must be _completely_ open to one another."

Hunk and Lance glanced at each other, smiles making its way onto their faces. "It's _got_ to be two years ago! That July at Veradera Beach," Lance exclaimed, leaning into Hunk excitingly.

"Remember when you tried to impress that girl and ended up face planting into the sea?" Hunk asked, a laugh ghosting his words.

"That was part of the Lance McClain charm, Hunk!" Lance protested, his eyebrows falling somewhat.

"Classic," Pidge laughed, clutching onto her stomach. "Mine has to be. . . my eighth birthday. The entertainment wasn't able to come, so my dad booked us a day out at a fair. I made Matt go on _every_ ride with me, and he puked after the waltzers."

Caught up in their laughter, nobody noticed Keith's silence as he watched all of them reminiscing the best times. Watching the tears form in the corners of Pidge's eyes as she rolled onto the floor in laughter, whilst Lance was protesting _all_ of what Hunk was divulging about Lance's less-than-worthy moments — and there was _a lot._

Eventually, their chuckles calmed down as they all turned to Keith expectantly. "What's yours, Keith?" Pidge asked, a smile on her features as her amber eyes stared at him expectantly through her glasses. "Fess up."

Keith shrugged, cocking a brow. "I don’t know."

"You _don’t_ know?" Hunk repeated, sounding confused. "How can you _not_ know?"

Keith hummed. "Making it into the Garrison, maybe?" he pondered, truly lost in thought.

The atmosphere in the room become more tense. Keith was a galra. The team had already been divulged that much information, and the notion of Keith having a checkered past (which Shiro somehow contributed to, due to the blatant favouritism) was insinuated many times, so Keith not being able to think of an overly joyous memory was. . . sad.

"What about ones with your parents?" Pidge asked, looking at Keith with a pitying look.

"They. . . weren't really around." Keith's voice echoed into the room, which was surprisingly empty and quieter than it had been before.

"Don't you. . . have any. . . y'know. . . _good_ memories?" Hunk asked unsurely, not knowing whether he should turn over _that_ stone.  

Keith's brow furrowed again, as he looked deep in thought. "There is one I sort of remember. . . when I was twelve, maybe thirteen. I remember this older guy. . . he helped me out a lot. I remember that he meant a lot to me. Especially at the time," Keith's voice grew less hard with every word that he spoke, and the paladins could easily see the ghost of a smile touching his lips — something Keith hadn't done in a while. Ever since Shiro had disappeared.

Pidge cooed, her hands covering her lips as she grinned mischievously. " _Oooooo, Keith has a crush!"_ she teased, her eyes twinkling slightly.

Keith ignored her taunts. Sometimes he forgot that Pidge was fourteen, and had a proclivity for being puerile at times. Not so much that she rivalled Lance's immaturity, however. "My memory's. . . hazy for the most part. It was four years ago. I barely remember him."

"Four years?" Pidge repeated. "How can you not remember that!?"

"Alien genes," Lance muttered underneath his breath, making Hunk hit him in warning.

Keith glared at Lance, hearing his spiteful mumble, "I'm sorry I've never been to _Verewherever_ beach like you. Some of us don't _have_ those privileges," Keith snapped, clearly having reached his edge. Lance _always_ pushed him, and the whole _'Keith being an alien'_ situation wasn't exactly something Keith was comfortable with yet, so Lance using it to _insult_ him was definitely a no go. "I don’t know what I did to you to hate me so much, exactly, but don’t be mad at _me_ because of some stigma you have about me being the statistically better pilot!"

Lance bristled slightly, before his face morphed into one of ire mirroring Keith's. "I think the reason you're being so angry recently is because Shiro isn't here to coddle you! You think you're so _special_ because Shiro chose _you_ to guide the black lion, but you haven't even taken it out of its hangar yet!"

"I'm bonded to _R_ _ed,_ " Keith reminded Lance. "I can't jump from lion to lion. I don’t know if you've been listening, but we're bonded to a lion _specifically._ It's not as easy as it looks—!"

 _"Paladins! Please,_ " Allura shouted through the microphone. " _Calm down!"_

 _"Keith_ started it!" Lance yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Keith.

" _You_ started it," Keith argued back.

Before Keith and Lance could continue their squabbling whilst Pidge and Hunk stared at each other uncomfortably, the sound of a door opening could be faintly heard in the speakers and Coran's voice suddenly filled up the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Princess. I have just detected a distress signal from a nearby planet."

Allura sighed. "I guess we'll have to continue this later," she said offhandedly, away from the microphone, sounding slightly tired. "Paladins, suit up! Dispatch your lions shortly."

.

.

.

Pidge hummed for a moment; her fingers tapped her control screen with a puzzled look playing on her features. "So, what’s the situation?" Pidge asked through the headset, looking at her current surroundings. "My lion can't detect any signs of life."

"This is rather bizarre. It's like they just _vanished,_ " Allura replied, her eyes looking away from the camera. "The castle can't detect them anymore, either."

"I'm not liking the looks of this place, guys. It's creepy," Hunk said uncertainly as he looked around, seeing moving shapes between the tenebrous forest. Vines swung languidly, dripping with moss and. . . _water?_ Hunk didn’t know what that substance was, but it was transparent. Up ahead, the atmosphere was growing foggier and foggier. Hunk flinched, and couldn't help but think how daunting the mist looked. 

Gradually, the lions become enshrouded in the mist which made sure that not even their garish colours could be seen.

"Guys, where are you?" Keith asked, his eyes darting left to right, slightly panicky, realising that if they were separated they were even more vulnerable. Worst of all, they couldn't even form Voltron anymore, so they were going to have to fight their enemies one on one, with _a lot_ less firepower.

"I'm not getting a good feeling about this. . ." Lance muttered. "Allura—"

Suddenly, the screen with Allura's face on it started a violent, warning red. Static drowned out Allura's face, and her crackling voice _just about_ made it through the speaker. "Paladins, I think this is a trap! Quickly, get out of ther—"

Allura's voice, along with the screen, abruptly cut off, making all of the paladins panic. Blind sighted and lost in the mist, they all grew disorientated. Whatever was approaching, they couldn’t see it at all. The fog was growing even more thick until clouds of grey were gradually turning into barricades, proving to be even harder to navigate through.

"Guys! Can you hear me?" Keith called.

"I can," Lance answered, his heart hammering in his chest. "Pidge? Hunk?"

No reply.

"I think they got cut off from us," Keith called back. "For now, we have to navigate out of this mist, and then plan."

"Right," Lance corroborated.

"Stay close to me. Pidge and Hunk probably got cut off because they're too far for communication."

Lance hoped so. "I can't _see_ you! How am I meant to stay close?"

". . . Right." Keith paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "If I start cutting out, go the other way. This mist is probably confusing our directi—"

_Crash._

Lance's lion shivered upon impact as something latched onto his lion, and started to make Lance lose control of Blue's movements. "Crap. Crap _crapcrapcrap—"_

"Lance! What's happening!?" Keith called, his voice breathless. " _Can you hear me!?"_

"Something's got me. I can't— _I can't break loose—"_ Lance grunted, his voice rough "I can't _move._ "

Silence.

Keith had cut out.

He was alone.

And didn’t cope well underneath pressure.

"Come _on. Moooove—"_

Another loud crash and he felt his lion shudder once again, making Lance tense his body up and curl into his torso, gripping onto his lion's controls. _Something_ was controlling his lion's movements, making it impossible for Lance to navigate away from _whatever_ it was.

_A tractor beam?_

Before he could organise any more theories, his lion was getting flung left and right violently, making Lance clutch onto anything he could to keep upright. His stomach lurched in apprehension and discomfort, feeling slightly sick — like when you were a child and kept spinning until you felt like you were going to puke up your entire insides—

Blue's interior flashed a glaring red as the thundering, unmistakable sound of alarm signals hammered in his ear. The word 'DANGER' in Altean — Lance knew that much — flooded onto his control pad's screen. Before he could even react, Lance was then flung out of his chair and thrown back and forth against the interior of the lion. Gravity was pulling Lance down and he could feel the weight on his bones, pinning him to the hammering steel, cool on his cheek. Lance's body felt heavy as he grabbed onto his chair rooted onto the floor, standing up — and then nearly falling back down — trying to grab onto his controls.

_THUD._

One last bang shook his whole lion, pushing Lance back onto the floor, banging his helmet with a tremendous force onto the control pad which rendered Lance unconscious as Blue continued to flash a wild shade of red, drowning out the trail of blood making its way out of Lance's helmet.

.

.

.

Bright light made its way into his eye view as Lance tried to open his eyes. His head hurt like hell, and he groaned as consciousness seeped back into his body, wishing that he could backtrack. _Thump, thump, thump_ — the back of his head had a pulse, along with the rest of his body. Lance's bones _ached_ as he attempted to move, and then avidly tried to go against it.

For the most part, Lance could see that he wasn't in a healing pod. For one, he was conscious, and _two,_ he felt like he was lying on something squishy but lumpy at the same time.

Groaning to himself, Lance opted to open his eyes. Curiosity got the best of him. He obviously wasn't in the castle because nothing was _this_ uncomfortable; the texture of this. . . _thing_ he was lying on could count as borderline torture, and nobody should be subjected to that type of pain. Especially somebody in Lance's condition.

"Are you awake?" A slightly-high pitched voice asked. His brain was fuzzy, but Lance couldn't help but think how the voice reminded Lance of a child. One which reeked of childish curiosity.

Lance's eyes opened once more slowly, seeing a concerned face make its way into his view of (blurry) sight. Lance was able to make out _some_ features of the face brazenly staring at him, but only the key features. Dark strands of hair framed the boy's pale face, and Lance could have _sworn_ it almost reassembled a human's, but that was preposterous. Humans beside him, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro and Keith this far out in space? Ha!

"Who're you?" Lance groaned. He hated the way his voice sounded. Gruff and hoarse. On the contrary, he had just been through hell, but he hated the idea of someone — especially a _kid_ — seeing him in such a state.

Well, at least it wasn't Keith.

The boy made a disagreeing noise with his mouth. "Not allowed to give my name to strangers."

Lance huffed out a weak laugh. It reminded Lance of his own little brother at home — the stubbornness in this boy's voice mirroring Milo's exactly. "I see your point — are your. . . _parents_ around?" Some aliens didn't have parents; some parents left their child at young ages, whilst some alien children were even produced asexually. Lance didn’t know how that worked, exactly, but Coran had ensured him that it _was_ possible. Alien reproductive cycles were weird.

The boy hesitated for a moment, seemingly pondering his response, before answering. "No. But I've got a knife if you try anything."

"Do I really look like I could do anything in my state?" Lance answered back, slightly disturbed that a young alien child was carrying around a knife and threatened violence so casually. Then again, with the way the Galra Empire obliterated things so easily, children were probably forced to face such brutal truths, and were probably being taught how to fend for themselves at young ages.

"You could be faking it. We were given a letter from school; it's happened before."

 "Not a trustworthy kid, are you?" Lance chuckled, his voice still very hoarse. "Do you know where we are? What planet are we on?"

". . . Earth?" The boy replied, sounding confused. "Where else would we be?"

Lance instantly jolted up, but quickly regretted that decision as pain blistered through his entire body, especially present in his torso and brain, making Lance yelp in pain as he grabbed his head. On closer inspection, Lance released that his head had been bandaged thoroughly and wrapped rather securely. Lance was impressed if the kid did this; this handiwork was more than what Lance could do. After all, he wasn't the neatest guy.

Lance turned towards the boy. "Did you do th—" He was then cut off from his sentence, releasing that the boy was pointing a knife at him, stance perfectly even. Lance's eyes still hadn't readjusted properly, but he was still able to make the out the outline of a knife being pointed in his direction.

"Don’t move," the boy warned.

"Woah. . . I'm peaceful," Lance said, holding his hands up. "I don’t intend any harm on you."

"You look crazy. Your eyes are looking around, and you don’t know what planet we're on. Why should I trust you?"

_So he was back on earth._

_Or he was dead._

_But, in death, Lance didn’t think he would be encountered by an angry little boy with a knife._

Lance laughed nervously at the boy's questions; he was quite sharp. "Was just making sure I wasn't dreaming," he lied, rather terribly, "and sorry, you're still blurry to me. My eyes are a bit messed up."

Lance could see that the boy was lowering his knife slowly. "What happened to you?" He questioned warily.

"Hm?"

"I found you unconscious in the desert. I thought you were dead."

"Oh. . . I got beaten up pretty badly."

"By who?"

"Bad people. Ditched them in the desert, though."

Lance knew how to lie or wrap his words around kids interests. It was one of his special qualities after years of having a big family, littered with younger siblings and cousins and second cousins, so talking to this boy was surprisingly easier than he would have thought. Sure, he felt bad for lying to the kid, but what was he supposed to tell him? That he had been defending the universe against some extra-terrestrial tyrant? He would sound even crazier!

"What did the bad people want?" The boy asked, his interest obviously piqued.

"That's classified information," Lance huffed out, hunching over the couch whilst waiting for his vision to clear up as he blinked slowly. Slowly, the floor, sullied with sand and muddy footprints, cleared up, and Lance could rejoice knowing that he wasn't permanently blind.

He heard the boy scoff. "I'll tell you my name if you tell me the information."

Lance pretended to contemplate the boy's words. "Hm. . . okay, deal. You first."

"My name's Keith. Your turn."

Keith.

_Keith. . ._

_. . ._

_. . . . . ._

**_KEITH!?_ **

Immediately, Lance looked up and to his horror saw a younger boy with violet eyes starting back at him, obviously intrigued with Lance's lies. Bright, sparkling violet eyes which were filled with curiosity and interest, childish innocence shrouded slightly behind his lashes. Eyes which Lance would recognise _anywhere._ Keith's hair was definitely shorter than how it was now; his mullet hadn't properly grown in yet, and it looked similarly like Lance's, but Keith — begrudgingly — had always had more volume in hair than Lance ever would.

Looking around, Lance realised that _this was the shack._

The shack which Keith had brought them all to when they stole Shiro from the Galaxy Garrison's officers when he crash landed onto earth. Where Keith had shown them all of his weird conspiracy theories that were pinned to the wall — ones which had led them to where they were in the first place. Now, however, as Lance glanced over, the board was empty, except with one drawing which Lance presumed was made by Keith; a piece of paper with a crayon drawing of who Lance assumed was Keith, his mother, and his father.

". . . Well, what's the secret?" Keith asked innocently, a small pout on his lips.

"Rule one of the trade, never do it first," Lance told him. "Otherwise you'll get screwed over." Taunting Keith was something Lance had always loved to do, kid or teenager. He was still mad at current Keith, but taking it out on child Keith — who looked _crushed_ — made him feel a little bad. _This_ Keith hadn't done anything to him, but screw his principals Keith was a dickhole.

Keith's wide eyes narrowed. "You lied to me!"

"You've got to face humiliation at one time or another," Lance shrugged, his words projecting what he had always wanted to say to teenager Keith. Younger Keith was definitely an easier target since teen Keith was riddled with angst and anger, _never_ listening to reason or really _anything_ Lance said.

Lance felt slightly guilty as he looked at Keith's bottom lip poking out. Seeing _Keith,_ the _top_ pilot of the garrison, Mr. Serious, look so _betrayed_ made Lance feel conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to laugh since it was Keith, _that enigmatic son of a—_ and on the _other hand,_ looking at how pitiful Keith looked made something pang in his chest. Guilt? Perhaps.

Deceiving little kids and disappointing them didn’t feel too good, even if it was _Keith._

"You're the worst!" Keith shouted.

"I know," Lance answered waving him off.

Lance was still completely baffled by the situation. He couldn't fathom how he was on _earth,_ in the _past._ Was this a dream? Probably. Maybe speaking to some other people would help him more.

"Hey, Keith," Lance said, catching the boy's attention. "Were there any. . . giant lion robots near me where I was passed out?"

"No?" Keith replied, his eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you're not crazy?"

Lance wondered that too. Was he going crazy after being cooped up in the castle, missing his family for so long? "I. . . _I don’t think so."_

"Suspicious," Keith muttered.

"So, what time are your parents coming home? I want to thank them."

"For what?" Keith asked sulkily, looking slightly frustrated.

"Helping me."

"That was _me!"_ Keith yelped in a petulant voice, stamping his foot. Seeing Keith act so. . . _childishly_ was weird. Shit, this whole situation was weird, and Keith _was_ a kid. In this timeline.

" _You_ dragged me from the desert into here?" Lance asked, not believing a word of it.

"You were unconscious _outside_ of here. . ." Keith said, looking at the floor guiltily. "It's not like you were _all_ the way in the desert."

Lance's grin and upcoming, witty riposte was suddenly wiped away from his mind as realisation dawned on him. Keith's words now and Keith's words earlier, when they were doing their _team bonding exercise_ — _or. . . later, since he was in the past_ — suddenly struck him close to home. Earlier, he was too angry to sympathise with Keith and didn't really pay attention to his words: Keith _had_ said that his parents weren't really around when he was a child. "Where," Lance started, feeling his voice croak (damn he needed some water) "where _are_ your parents?"

"I told you. They left earlier," Keith answered obediently.

Lance raised a brow, sympathy still in his voice. "How much earlier?"

"Five. . . maybe six. . . years ago. . ." Keith said, his voice growing very quiet.

Lance tried his best not to jolt up again in surprise, saving his body the pain, but he was utterly flummoxed. "You've been living by yourself for _six_ years?"

Keith shook his head. "I have another foster family, but I don’t like them," Keith said. "So, I came here. And then I saw you. I thought you were trying to break in at first."

"So, who does this shack belong to?"

"It belonged to my mother," Keith provided. "It was abandoned, I think. I'm not really sure. . . I woke up on the steps of a foster home—" Immediately, Keith's eyes widened, realising he had said too much. Divulged too much information to a stranger. "But, I'm going back there now, so there's no need to call the police."

Something hurt in Lance's chest; he felt like had just been punched. Hard.

Lance smiled at Keith, beckoning him over with his hands. He couldn't help feeling an older brotherly duty to Keith. His Older Brother mode was kicking in, and that only happened with his younger siblings, but the way Keith _sounded_ felt too familiar. Hiding his insecurities to appear braver to everybody else. Lance _wrote_ that book.

Keith stared uncertainly at Lance's demanding hand before following its orders and walked over to Lance who was still planted on the couch, unable to move. Lance could feel it, and he knew that Keith did too. Unspoken trust. After all, Keith had potentially saved Lance's life, and even though Lance didn't like the _current_ Keith — or maybe it was more jealously and insecurity than blatant _dislike_ — he had nothing against child Keith.

As soon as Keith came into range, Lance ruffled his hair with a soft smile on his face, much to Keith's chagrin; Keith merely scowled and held his hair with his hands, his cheeks dusting with the faintest of pink. "You've messed up my hair!"

" _Believe me,_ it only gets worse," Lance reassured.

"What do you mean?" Keith asked, lowering his hands suspiciously.

"Nothing," Lance quickly hums. Lance quickly says. He's watched Kim Possible, and he knows you don’t fuck with the past. "So about this foster family—"

"What about them?" Keith quipped, his voice grouchy.

"Why don’t you like them?" Lance asked.

"They're mean," Keith said simply. "So I don't like them," he said with conviction.

"How're they mean?"

"Don't want me," Keith said in a-matter-of-fact voice — too condescending for a preteen, Lance thought, but that was _Keith_ — as he turned to inspect the dusty bookshelves behind him, littered with different types of faded colours.

Lance laughed. " _How_ do you know that?"

Keith shrugged, hiding his facial expression. "They told me."

Lance's eyebrows furrowed. "Your foster parents told you that they didn’t like you?"

Keith nodded ferociously, turning his head to the side slightly, giving Lance a glimpse of his mask slipping. A hurt look, badly masked by ire, was present on his features, alongside the wrinkling on his forehead. It looked as if he was deep in thought as he stared at the floor. "They get benefits if they take me since I'm a _special_ kid."

"What do you mean by 'special'?" Lance felt like he kept asking questions, but he was so interested. This side to Keith — _did anybody even_ know _this side to Keith?_ — was unprecedented to Lance. He was so _open,_ and not as guarded as the current Keith. It was easier to talk with him. Kids had always been easier to communicate with. Most of them didn't have filters and didn't know what modesty was, so they were always more open — that was Lance's experience, anyway.

"I have _discipline issues,_ apparently."

Oh, how Lance remembered _that_. At Galaxy Garrison he remembered Keith constantly getting in trouble for even the smallest of things; even though Keith wasn't the best at obeying orders, Lance _had_ to admit they did have it out for Keith — even on the first days.

Keith had always been a hot-headed individual, so breaking orders wasn't something the boy was a stranger to. Galaxy Garrison, of course, didn't take well to that. Keith _was_ the best pilot in their class; there was no disputing that, and Lance would never admit it out loud, but he had said it numerous times in his head. Iverson had always shouted at Keith as he stood in front of the class with his top marks, howling about how Keith never followed orders and that even if he _was_ a good pilot, without helping his team he wouldn't last a day in space.

Iverson had never been the nicest individual. Stone cold, bitter _and_ mean: all the things Lance achieved not to be. Verbal humiliation was not beneath him. So, one day, after being the butt of Iverson's joke for too long, Keith shouted back at him, stunning _everyone._ Even Lance was slightly taken aback.

Keith was escorted out of the room and was never heard from again. People had joked that Iverson had killed him, but seemingly not, since two days later a missing hovercraft was reported, replaced by a shredded version of Keith's garrison uniform.

"Maybe you should be less impulsive," Lance suggested, fidgeting with his hands nervously, not knowing what to say. He hated trying to take the parental toll on the situation, but Lance felt like he was obligated to.

The corners of Keith's mouth lifted somewhat at Lance's obviously awkward suggestion as he picked one of the books from the shelf. "You sound like the other adults. Thanks for the vague advice, though, but it's not really something I can control."

Lance scratched the side of his head awkwardly, his bones still aching. "Yeah, I'm not the best when it comes to advice." _Kiddy Keith_ advice, to be more exact.

"I agree," Keith deadpanned, flicking through the book as he placed it on the 'coffee table', which, as Lance inspected more closely, was just a wooden plank, supported by concrete blocks and stacks of books.

"What're you reading?"

"If _you're_ not going to move, then I'm just going to read."

"Okay, number one, I am in excruciating pain. You don’t know what I've been through," Lance pointed out.

"You can't _number_ things if you're only making _one_ point," Keith stated as a matter of factly, "and, you won't _tell_ me what you've been through since it's so top secret, so you can't be angry that I don’t know," Keith ranted before adding: "adults are so hypocritical."

Wow. Even Kid Keith was a dick and sort of outsmarted him. Lance frowned. He couldn't shout as some kid in the middle of the desert. Even if it _was_ Keith. "Touché." Sometimes, especially with _kids_ , you had to concede defeat.

Keith scowled and got back to his book, flipping absently through the pages as he rested his head on his palm. Lance examined Keith more closely. The specs of dirt dusting his nose and his cheek were the first thing that he noticed, and Lance wanted to scrub them all off. Did Keith not _know_ how bad dirt was for his pores!? Not to mention his greasy hair, which looked like it hadn't been washed in a week. Keith's personal hygiene hadn't always been the best, Lance knew that; sometimes, he wouldn’t even _wash_ his face before he went to bed, despite sweating from strenuous hours of training, but _this?_ This was over the line!

Secondly, judging by his baggy, oversized clothing, Lance could see his clothes were second hand and picked uncaringly. Faded black jumper accompanied by a faded black — almost grey — top, alongside a pair of khaki cargo shorts and scuffed black trainers. Daresay, Keith's outfit choice was better as a teenager than it was now.  

"What are you reading?" Lance asked after his inspection of Keith, laying back down on the couch as his sides howled in pain. His head had never stopped. Silence and Lance didn't do well, and he would always make conversation, even in the most painful of silences.

"A book," Keith said absently.

"About?"

"Space."

"You like space?" Lance asked, staring at the stained roof.

"Who doesn't?" Keith asked.

"Very true. My favourite thing about space is how _big_ it is — just imagining it blows me away. Like. . . all the _possibilities_ and the places we haven't even explored! We may never even know what lies ahead, y'know? It's sort of frustrating." That was a lie, of course. Lance knew what lay ahead. Zarkon and all of his troops ready to conquer the universe, but Lance wasn't going to divulge Keith to _that_ information. Instead, Lance recalled to when _he_ was a kid; he had always loved space, and he remembered how eager he was to see it. Speaking about it again made nostalgia bubble in his stomach slightly as Lance felt himself smiling.

"Do you believe in aliens?" Keith asked after a beat of silence, his cheeks flushing slightly.

How ironic. Keith was right there. There was living proof _right in front of him._ "Of course I do. What about you?" Lance felt himself growing sleepy. His body was tired, and he could feel his eyes fluttering closed as he turned to Keith. Squinting like this would give him wrinkles, Lance realised, but entertaining Keith was his priority at the moment; a feeling akin to pity was sitting like a weight in his chest.

Keith nodded vehemently. "Aliens are definitely real!" He announced with a childish certainty. Something made Lance's chest feel warm as he saw Keith's eyes twinkle with excitement and hope; despite Keith being a kid, he was quite mature. _Way_ more mature than Lance was. Why? Lance feared that it was probably because Keith _had_ to grow up due to the circumstances he was forced under. Foster parents who tell you they don't like you. Keith was. . . what? Twelve? If _anybody_ told Lance they didn’t like him at the age of twelve, he would have burst into tears, so Keith's _foster parents?_ It was harsh.

"I bet you'll discover them one day," Lance said, his voice warm.

"How? I'd never get into Galaxy Garrison. You have to be really smart and rich," Keith scoffed, closing the book and sitting on the floor in front of Lance, leaning against the couch.

"I doubt that. If you're really good, you can get a scholarship," Lance suggested.

"How?"

"Become the best. Duh."

"The best what?"

Lance swallowed, the smallest bit of bitterness stinging the back of his throat. "Pilot. Become the best pilot, and I'm sure you'd get in," and with that, Lance lazily reached out his hand and ruffled Keith's (greasy) hair again, but this time Keith let Lance do it without jerking his head away.

Keith turned his head toward Lance, smiling slightly at him. Lance couldn't help but notice how his cheeks puffed out slightly, and they were dusted pink again, but only this time it was brighter; it was cute. "Maybe I will."

Lance yawned, feeling his eyelids drooping even more. "Good."

"Goodnight."

.

.

.

It was dark.

Scratch that, it was very dark.

Lance couldn't see _a thing._

Cold air, borderline freezing, ghosted Lance's face. Gelid fingertips of cold air combed their way through Lance's brown hair and caressed his face lightly, making him shiver. Breathing out, Lance saw how his breath looked like smoke — the hot air from his mouth mixing with the cold air in the atmosphere.

Draped over him lazily was a thin blanket which wasn’t providing him much protection, but it was better than nothing. Luckily for Lance, his paladin suit was warm.

Lance tried to check his surroundings but couldn't see a thing at all, but after his body had grown more accustomed to the idea of being awake, he was able to recall that he was _still_ on the lumpy couch which was not doing his aching torso any favours. Glancing at the window above him, Lance was able to see the scintillating stars freckling the sky. Constellations glowing profusely, warming Lance's heart a bit.

He had always loved stars.

Lance maneuvered his body so he was sitting up properly. He guessed that he was still in the cabin, and that Keith was gone. He probably went back to his foster family or something, but Lance still felt uncomfortable by that notion of Keith going back there. But, what could he do? Lance didn’t know shit about _real life_ time travel, but he had watched enough movies to know that he shouldn't tamper with the past, and what was happening with Keith was _sadly_ the past, and Lance couldn't change that. Lance couldn't do anything for child Keith, and it _physically_ hurt that he couldn’t.

Lance loved his family: his mother, brothers, sisters, father, uncles, aunts, grandparents, nieces, nephews, cousins. . . they meant the _world_ to him. Keith didn't _have_ that, and it hurt Lance to know that. Lance would be lying if he said he knew anything about Keith's past. The whole galra thing did make him question how checkered his past had been, however, he wouldn't have expected anything like this. . .

Perhaps Lance's insecurities were affecting his judgement. Lance didn’t like Keith due him being jealous; Keith was the _best pilot,_ Keith was in _Shiro's_ — his hero since day one — favour and definitely a significant figure in Shiro's life. Lance _burned_ to have what Keith had.

Or. . . he _used_ to.

His stomach turned uncomfortably as Lance recalled how horrible he had been to Keith. Somewhere in the middle, Lance admitted that he didn’t mind Keith and would have even called them _friends._ After Shiro's disappearance however, Keith had obviously been on edge — he was worried; they all were.

When Keith announced that Shiro told him that _he_ would be piloting the black lion, something inside of Lance snapped. Jealously, envy and anger — everything Lance's mother had taught him _not_ to be — all bubbled inside of him.

Lance _knew_ he was nothing to the team. Shiro was the amiable leader whom everybody adored because it was _Shiro;_ everybody listened to him and he brought reason and sense to the group — he helped them work as a team. Pidge was the technical genius who had saved their asses numerous times and Lance would probably be dead if she wasn't there — and she was _fourteen._ Hunk was the gourmet cook and engineer whom everybody adored because he was just the biggest ball of sunshine with the _funniest_ jokes. Keith was their best pilot and, in all honesty, had grown so much since Lance had experienced him at the Garrison — his teamwork had improved greatly and he would do anything for his team.

What was Lance's place in the group?

_Seventh Wheel._

Lance gulped, feeling his eyes burn. This had happened before.

Usually, Lance would put up the confident, girl-crazy, obnoxious façade as a barrier — a wall between himself and reality. Others thinking you're weak usually brought you down — _people_ would bring you down if they saw that you were 'weak'.

At Galaxy Garrison, he vowed to become more confident. Hunk had been used to his façade from the beginning — Hunk became _best friends_ with Lance's façade, but not _Lance,_ and in all honesty, Lance was terrified of what would happen if he acted otherwise. Shiro was his idol — _his hero_ — so he didn’t want to act weak in front of him; he wanted Shiro to think he was _cool_ and worthy of praise. Pidge — _Katie_ — would probably think it's pathetic of him to cry; she's fourteen and her dad _and_ brother had got abducted by the galra, so if Lance is sad over something little like his insecurities, how would he look to Pidge?

_Pathetic._

And _Keith._ How could Lance act weak in front of his self-proclaimed rival? He couldn't lose to him in anything. Keith was always so suave and collected about everything — sometimes his emotions _did_ get the better of him, but that was stuff like anger which only made him look even cooler since when Keith was fired up, his piloting skills only grew.

His eyes felt like they were on fire. The tears falling down his cheek _burned;_ it was almost as if Lance could _feel_ the blisters forming on his cheeks already. Lance's insecurities were suffocating him. He felt like he could barely breathe, especially due to the lump in his throat as he contemplated _everything_ in the darkness of Keith's shack.

He was alone.

Lance bitterly wondered if anybody was looking for him. Probably not. They hadn't even started looking for Shiro actively yet, so what chance did Lance have when he contributed _nothing_ to the team? Shiro was their priority. He was _important._ Lance was not.

This is why Lance hated to be alone. He always got to wrapped up in his negative thoughts. That's why he had to sleep with music in most of the time, to focus on that instead of his own insecurities, otherwise he wouldn't get any sleep.

Choking back a sob, Lance rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to even his breathing. He had to make it back to his lion. Keith hadn't seen it, so who _knows_ where it was? If worse comes to worse, he could go back to the cave and take _that_ blue lion, but. . . that would probably mess everything up.

"Are you crying?"

Lance jumped at the voice, letting the flimsy blanket fall onto the floor. A flashlight made its way onto Lance's face, illuminating the dingy shack and — the flashlight was _definitely_ too bright for Lance's eyes as he squinted, which only made more tears fall. "Ah. So you are crying."

"Keith?" Lance called.  

"Who else would it be?" Keith asked, lowering his torch.

"I don’t know who comes around here," Lance muttered.

He saw Keith shrug as footsteps came closer to him, but then he felt a _flick_ next to him. A simple lantern which was rather dim illuminated the shack once more, but in a warmer light; the torch was a cold light which made Lance colder, but this one was more. . . atmospheric.

Glancing at Keith from the corner of his eye, Lance realised that Keith had a jacket on which he hadn’t been wearing before, alongside a pair of gloves which, for once, covered his goddamn fingers. "You went back home?" Lance asked.

Keith scoffed. "No. I keep my stuff here," he answered.

"I thought you went back home," Lance said honestly.

"Why would I? I was lying to you when I said I was going back. I thought you were one of those agents trying to get me to come back home, but seeing you cry in the middle of the desert cleared things up," Keith admitted, removing his backpack — which was also new — and placing it on the makeshift coffee table. "I came prepared when I came back to the desert. It gets cold at night."

Lance hummed for a moment in agreement. "Then where did you go?"

Keith looked slightly embarrassed, lowering his face into his too-big-for-his-small-size jacket and even though most of it was drowned out by the orange light, Lance was able to spot the slight dust of pink on his cheeks again. "Galaxy Garrison isn't too far from here. I went to go watch some of them train," he admitted.

Lance raised a brow. "They don't let cadets train at night. All equipment has to be put away by 10 o'clock on the dot."

"Shiro's allowed to train after hours! He's their top cadet!" Keith said, his eyes twinkling excitingly. "I watched from this cliff and he's really good. I want to ride a hovercraft like him when I'm old enough."

Well, this was new information. Then again, if Keith was — Lance was guessing — below thirteen, maybe twelve, since you had to be a teen or older to apply for Galaxy Garrison, then Shiro would be twenty-two. They were probably prepping him for the Kerberos mission, since it took a couple of years to properly equip people to such long distances such as the moons of Pluto. "Have you spoken to Shiro before?"

Keith shook his head, looking outraged. "Of course not. How could I?"

Lance shrugged. "They let people ride hovercrafts out here sometime. You may be able to ask Shiro one of the days to train you, or get you an interview."

"They don’t come out this far," Keith reprimanded. "I've made certain. Ever since I've been here I haven't seen a single hovercraft."

"But they do come out _far,_ " Lance reminded him. "If you make the distance — since you do already — I bet you could speak to him."

Keith was about to speak again, until his finger drooped slightly and a quizzical look replaced any excitement which was dawning on his features. "How do you know so much about Galaxy Garrison, anyway? Like their hours and stuff. You said you've never been here before," Keith questioned, brow raised.

Shit.

Lance raised his hands defensively, sweat building up on his brow. "I haven't been here before."

"And now that I think about it. . . your suit doesn't look. . . normal. It looks really advanced. Like something at the Garriso— _are you a pilot there?"_

"I—uhm. . . I—I used to be a pilot there," Lance admitted. "Got booted."

"Why?"

"Behavioural problems." Lance mentally cringed. He was using _Keith's story_ to _Keith._

Keith looked skeptical. "Like what?"

"Speaking when not spoken to, not following orders, talking back — _the whole bunch,_ " Lance counted every point on his fingers, trying to make it more realistic.

"Then why do you have a suit? It looks all futuristic and stuff," Keith said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Stole it as compensation." _Stop trying to look cool, Lance. You're feeding ideas into an easily-influenced Keith's brain._

"Can I try it on?" Keith asked hopefully, his eyes widening a fraction.

"Sorry, Keith, but this is _way_ too big," Lance ruffled his hair again, but Keith wasn't as accepting as last time since his request was getting denied, so he just glared at Lance. "I promise you, though, you'll get to wear one when you're older."

"How do you know?" Keith grumbled, slumping on the couch since Lance had _finally_ made enough room.

"Because I know you'll get into Galaxy Garrison. I guarantee it. They want people like you," Lance assured, staring at the ceiling. "I'm sure you’d be a great pilot." Speaking to child Keith was much easier than speaking to coeval Keith, Lance realised. Not in the I-hate-my-Keith way, but since this Keith didn’t know it was _Lance,_ it was easier for Lance to say what he had always thought about Keith. Feeding child Keith ideas since Lance could never say it to teen Keith.

Suddenly, Lance felt a weight against his arm and saw a patch of dark hair — which _really_ needed a wash — pressing against him. Lance couldn't help but not rest his hand on top of Keith's hair in retaliation; his hand was covered in his armor anyway, so it wasn't all bad. Lance would even dare say that Keith was cute at this moment.

But, he wouldn't.

Of course, it would be even cuter if Keith wasn't pressing _directly_ on a pressure point on Lance's arm — ever since he had woken up Lance had felt a bruise forming. 

"Thank you," Keith said softly.

"No problemo, kiddo."

"Never call me kiddo again."

Lance let out a laugh, letting silence pass through them. It wasn't an awkward silence, but a content one which relaxed Lance's aching bones. Lance wasn't sleepy anymore; he knew that he had been sleeping for a while so he was well rested, and if Lance knew Keith — well, he questioned that a lot — he knew that he was only fuelled off five hours of sleep per night.

Maybe that's why his memory was so bad.

_Probably._

"Why were you crying?" Keith eventually asks. Lance knew that Keith was going to ask it at one point or another. Reading situations had never been Keith's strong suit, and Lance didn't really know how to respond. Childish curiosity and innocent questions was something that Lance couldn't chastise or fault Keith about.

"Grown up stuff."

"You're in Galaxy Garrison. You're maybe three or four years older than me, so don't _grown up stuff_ me."

Lance chuckled. Only one year off. "Maybe you're right. I'm assuming you're twelve."

"Just about," Keith admitted. "It's my birthday in three months."

"Happy birthday in three months," Lance said, his voice soft. Even though it was only him and Keith in the cabin, Lance felt like he had to be quiet. "I hope you get into Galaxy Garrison."

"Me too," Keith said. "I'll become a better pilot than you."

Lance scoffed. "You've never _seen_ me pilot."

"But I've seen you crashed on the floor, rendered unconscious, probably because of a machine you were piloting."

_Well. He wasn't wrong._

"I knew it," Keith huffed after Lance's hesitation to answer, a laugh on his breath. Another moment of silence passed, and Lance could feel himself grow slightly dizzy. Fatigue, perhaps? Before Lance could further his thoughts, Keith decided to speak again, "you know, sometimes. . . I cry too. Here. _Alone._ Where nobody can see me. It's better than way so nobody knows that things bother you."

Lance was slightly taken back by his confession but didn’t stop patting Keith's head. "I guess the tough guy act is always better to follow so nobody takes advantage of you, huh," Lance said mindlessly, his mind still a bit dizzy. "But, you shouldn't. You need to talk to somebody about those horrible foster parents, and you need to do your best and get into Galaxy Garrison, because I have great expectations."

"Easier said than done," Keith mumbled. "I'm just a kid. Adults won't listen to me. I've tried talking to them. Going back into the system is just as bad."

"Galaxy Garrison is a boarding institute, so you won't have to stay with your parents, and house you till you're eighteen. By then you're a legal adult, and won't have to go back into the system, or to those mean ol' foster parents of yours, Cinderella. Might not be the advice you were hoping for, but it's true."

Keith's grip on Lance's armour became tighter, and Lance could feel it. "What if I don’t get in?"

"You never know until you try," Lance said with a shrug. "Talking to Shiro is probably your best bet, though. Connections are the best thing for a institute like the Garrison." Lance almost forgot that he was speaking to a twelve year old.

 _And_ feeling dizzier by the second.

Keith hummed magnanimously before he let out a satisfied huff. "Earlier, when you said you weren't the best at advice, I think you were lying. It's just, when you're trying to think about what somebody else would say, that's when your advice sucked. But, when you say what you _actually_ thinks best, your advice isn't that bad."

Lance felt like he was going to puke again. "Thanks," he said with a wry smile, trying to hide his current I'm-going-to-puke-on-you state. Taking a deep breath, Lance stared down to look at Keith, who was eyeing him quite strangely, obviously noticing the dip in Lance's behaviour. "Honestly, though Keith, be careful. Wandering around a desert by yourself. . . I'll grow worried. Knife or no knife."

Keith's eyes lit up slightly as Lance said the word 'worried', but then reverted back to normal in a second, but something in Lance's chest had already filled with trepidation. Something about this situation. . . he didn’t want to leave Keith like this. Alone and vulnerable in the desert. "You can stay here, if you want. With me. In this shack," Keith offered. "It's not the best but. . . it's home."

Lance's head was spinning round and round, and he couldn't focus on Keith properly. Something in his chest hurt, and it wasn't because of his borderline catatonic state; Lance couldn't _move_ and he could barely respond to focus on what Keith was saying. "I appreciate that. . . I really. . . thank you. . . Keith."

"Hey! Is everything alright?" Keith called out, touching one of Lance's shoulder pads tentatively; Lance could _feel_ the concern on Keith's face. Worrying a twelve year old was something he wasn't proud of, but his chest felt warm at the idea of Keith being worried. For _him._ "Lie down—!"

"S'fine," Lance slurred, his voice becoming groggy. "V'been lying here all day. . . need fresh air. . ."

Lance tried his best to stand up, and he fell with a fat _thud,_ making his body burst into the pain which had numbed over the day. A concerned Keith instantly sprang to his side, shoving him softly and slapping Lance's face with his small hands.

"Hey! Wake up!" Keith's voice yelled.

Keith's blurred face soon turned into stars. Billions and billions of stars, alongside dark smoke, blurred Lance's vision, making him unable to see Keith's concern. Something Lance was relieved at. Eventually, he couldn't see anything, but he could only hear the drowning out voice of Keith becoming more distorted by the second, and the guilt in his chest for putting Keith in such a frenzied state.

"You can't die here!"

_You were going to help me get into the Garrison too!"_

The same voice, yelling numerous things. Keith's voice.

" _You can't leave me too!"_

Something dropped in Lance's chest at that one.

_"You've got to wake up!"_

"Wake up!"

_"Please, wake up!"_

_"Hey! Open your eyes!"_

_"Don’t tell me your dead!"_

_"Wake up!"_

##  **_"LANCE!"_ **

Lance took a deep, shuddering breath as he woke up, his body jolting up instantly from the lips that were pressed against his own, making the other person flinch back. Lance's breath was ragged, and he waited for himself to catch it; he could feel his chest heave up and down, and the wetness on his lips.

Turning his gaze to in front of him, Lance saw Keith staring at him with wide eyes which looked distressed. A moment passed between them before Keith's face dropped into a relieved smile as he hugged Lance. Lance gave a quiet _oof_ as Keith squeezed him.

Lance patted his back awkwardly. "Crushing. . . my organs. . ."

Keith flinched back, the smile still on his features. "I found you unconscious— you— _you had stopped breathing_ ," he sounded breathless. Ironic. "I thought— I thought you were. . . _y'know. . ."_

"Dead?" Lance offered.

Keith frantically nodded, looking a bit shaken. "Losing you _and_ Shiro. . . I don’t think I could do it. . . no matter how much you get on my nerves."

Lance stared at Keith, wide eyed. Never would have thought that he would have heard Keith say those words, and before Lance could even come up with a witty retort to mask his true feelings — since that was Lance's specialty — Keith continued to speak. "I know. . . you don’t really like me. . . and I know that we argue a lot but you — _everybody_ — here is like a family to me. I've never had a family. . . well I have but. . . _anyway—_ I know you're probably going to rip on me, now or later, but. . . I just wanted you to know that. Before anything else bad happens to you."

Lance was speechless.

Keith _didn’t_ hate him? After _everything_ Lance had done to him?

What Lance had just witnessed right now — with the 'younger Keith', as Lance will dub him. . . was that _real?_ Or just a fragment of his imagination because Keith was playing on his mind? Lance dismissed those thoughts; of course it hadn't been real. Time travel wasn't humanly possible, and—

No. It was preposterous!

"Uhm. . . thanks dude," Lance supplied awkwardly, punching Keith on the arm lightly. "Guess that the same applies to me. Even though you do get on my nerves. . . and stuff. . . and you've been a dick recently."

Keith rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh from his mouth, looking around at their scenery. "I don’t know where we are. The atmosphere is breathable, and the fog's gone. We've lost everybody else, though."

"Can our helmets reach anyone?" Lance asked.

"Nope. Yours is broken and mine's chipped. A tornado came. Red and I managed to get away from it. . . Hunk and Pidge though. . . I don’t know what happened to them. . ."

"How long have we been here?" Lance croaked, finally realising how dry his throat was.

Keith pondered Lance's question for a moment before looking at the sky, clouded with red and black mists — Lance couldn't help but think it looked eerily beautiful. "I'd say around four days."

" _Four days!?"_

"I found you unconscious on the third one, so you could tell that I was worried. It took me like a day to wake you up — thought you were a goner. I think you got caught by that tornado. . . thing."

Lance's eyes suddenly widened. "Blue!? Is Blue okay!?"

"She's fine. Bit scuffed, but nothing Coran won't be able to handle. I've placed her next to Red."

Lance let out a sigh of relief, letting his body collapse on the floor. Adrenaline from not knowing the situation had distracted him, but now that Lance was aware, he could feel the ache of his bones starting to resurface. "So, what do we do now?"

"We don’t know what part of the planet we're on, so I guess we just wait," Keith suggested. "Pidge will probably find us like she did last time."

"Oh," Lance said simply. "Thanks for saving my life and all."

"No problem."

A beat of silence.

"So. . . was I your first kiss?"

Keith only glared.

.

.

.

Pidge, as always, came through in these types of situations. Two days later, of course, but she still found them, munching on the rations which Hunk suggested they should all keep in their lions in case of a situation like this. Hunk was a genius. Everybody already knew that, though.

Flying through a wormhole, she landed right next to Keith and Lance's lions, quickly hopping out of her own. "We found you! How are you guys holding up?" She asked.

"We've seen better days," Lance admitted, as Keith grabbed his waist and his shoulder trying to help him up.

"Lance can't walk properly," Keith supplied. "He was sucked into some tornado. . . thing. . . and it's messed up his legs."

Lance just laughed awkwardly as a concerned Pidge hugged both Keith and Lance, whispering an  _I'm so happy you two are okay_ before she and Keith both helped Lance back into his lion.

"Your arms are still working, right?" 

.

.

.

A few days had passed, and Lance was finally able to get out of the healing pod, legs fully healed thanks to their abnormal power. Everybody had mostly recovered somewhat, and Hunk was there waiting — they were taking turns — to greet Lance back out of the healing pod.

"Lance!" Hunk cheerfully exclaimed as he scooped the smaller teen into his arms and squeezed him as tightly as he could.

"How're you holding up, bud?" Lance asked after being released from Hunk's clutches.

"Everybody's doing better. You're the one who got roughed up the most," Hunk explained.

Lance sighed. "Of course."

"What are you sighing for? You saved us all, dude! When you pressed that sonic-beam-power-thing you collapsed that time bender vortex! If it wasn't for you, we'd probably all be dead! You're a hero."

Oh. So that's probably what happened when Lance banged his head on the lion's control panel.

"Time bender vortex?" Lance repeated, a brow raised.

"Well, Coran gave me a little briefing about it. They like slow down gravity and bend space and stuff and consisted of dark matter mostly. . . since they're so rare, nobody really has the science behind it but. . . you could've went through a part of folded space! They're like a black hole's cousin twice removed, really."

"English translation?"

"You could've done lots of cool stuff! Even _time travelled_ , dude!" Hunk exclaimed, aggressively shaking Lance's shoulders. "You could've even travelled _half way_ across the universe since they. . . y'know, fold space. So. . . if space is compressed," Hunk started, pressing his hands together in demonstration, "you could travel long distances in a short amount of time and junk like that. Don’t trust me on that one, though. I'm just observing. But, it's pretty cool about all the possibilities which could happen in space."

Lance froze. _Time travel._

Does that mean—?

"Hunk, I've gotta go."

"You've been in there for days, I'd be surprised if you didn’t—"

"No. I need to talk to _Keith,_ " Lance elaborated.

"Keith? He saved your life. Don't argue with him. We're all really worried about you! Allura said we'll have a feast when you wake up and everything! Don't ruin this!"

"No. Not that! I need to speak to him."

Hunk sighed. "Can we tell everybody you've woken up first? Everybody can't wait to see you — they're going to be so happy when they see you," Hunk said. "And I think Allura wants to apologise. This is the second time a distress signal has cost us."

Lance relented, the sweet talk finally getting the better of him. Everybody pampering him didn't seem like the _worst_ idea. "Fine. I'll speak to him _after_ the feast."

.

.

.

When Hunk said feast, Lance didn’t really know what he was expecting. For some reason, he envisioned lots of _human_ food, but alas, they were surrounded by aliens, and so he had to follow _their_ customs. Which involved the repugnant, purple space juice and the bland food goo.

"Lance! I'm so happy you're awake! You had us all terribly worried!" Allura exclaimed. "Even the space mice were concerned! The castle was quieter than usual. It was almost tedious!"

Lance wiggled his eyebrows. "You missed me, princess?"

Before Allura could even reply to Lance's bad attempt at flirting, Coran came dashing in and embraced Lance in his arms, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "We all did, number two!"

"Number. . . two?"

"He has us ranked in height order. You're the second tallest in our group," Pidge explained, staring at the space juice. "Just be thankful you're not number five," she said, adjusting her glasses.

"What number am I?" Hunk asked.

"Number three," Coran answered, holding up three fingers.

"Nice," Hunk whispered to himself.

"So, did anything happen in the time vortex, Lance?" Allura inquired, her body leaning forward slightly. "Not even Altean research knew a lot about the time vortexes. I'm surprised you came out of them alive."

Lance winced slightly, glancing at Keith who was staring at him, awaiting Lance's big reveal, like everybody else. He just laughed awkwardly as he shovelled a bit of food goo into his mouth. "I. . . went back to earth."

Allura and Coran looked startled whilst Hunk, Pidge, and Keith jumped up in surprise, rocking the table slightly, making Hunk's food goo topple right over.

 _"You went back to earth!?"_ Pidge yelled. "What did you see?"

"I. . . didn’t really see that much." It wasn't a lie. All he did was see the inside of Keith's shack. "It was nothing new. I was there for a day."

"What did it smell like? Were you in the past? _The future? Does Zarkon win?_ " Hunk questioned.

"I think I was in the past. Not too much. . . four years probably. Maybe three," Lance explained.

"Years?" Allura repeated.

"Quintents," Pidge explained. "365 earth days."

"Oh my! Four of those? I'm surprised you went back so far!" Allura gasped.

Lance stared down into his food goo. "I think. . . I was supposed to go there," Lance admitted, placing his utensils down. "Like it was. . . fate."

"Don’t get all deep on us, Lance," Hunk laughed. "It was a time vortex, not God."

"God?" Allura inquired, confused once more.

"A deity some humans believe in," Pidge supplied.

"Oh! Such as the lions!"

"You could say so. . ."

"How do you know you went that far into the past?" Keith asked, taking his seat.

"Just reminded me of when I was twelve. The atmosphere and stuff. I was transported to some city, but it was modern. That Pokémon game which was released for years ago was all over billboards, so I'm just assuming."

"That's so cool!" Pidge gushed. "I'm so jealous! I want to go back home!"

"I'm just lucky I got transported back," Lance said.

"That's why your job is so important, paladins," Allura reminded them. "If you don’t protect the universe, there won't be a home to go back to."

Solemn looks took over their faces. The idea of earth being obliterated wasn't the best. Their families and friends and neighbours. . . all gone in ten seconds. Just that thought alone made Lance clench his fists underneath the table. His mother, brother, sisters, dad— _he had to protect them._ Being away from them was hard enough, but never seeing them _again?_

Lance stood up from the table. "Allura's right. We _have_ to defeat Zarkon. We're going to get Shiro back and beat up that asshole."

"Beat up. . . _Shiro?_ " Hunk repeated uncertainly.

" _Zarkon,_ obviously," Pidge hissed.

Everybody stared at each other for a moment, and heads turned to Allura as she raised her cup of space juice. "To the paladins of Voltron."

 ** _"To the paladins of Voltron!"_** Everybody chorused, raising their glasses high. Even Keith. Lance had made a mental note that they hadn't even squabbled once since Keith had basically saved his life. Mouth to mouth with a guy could really change the way you looked at someone.

"Now that the heroic speech is over, Keith, tell us more about this crush," Pidge chirped after a few moments.

Eyes turned to Keith, who looked slightly embarrassed and a bit shocked that Pidge remembered that he had divulged the group with that important information; he was _even more_ shocked when he found out that _everybody_ was staring at him. "Why is everybody so concerned about it? It was years ago!"

"Because, Mr. _I'm Too Cool For School_ had a crush. It's ground-breaking! You've never shown interest in anyone. Ever," Lance explained. "Besides, we're a team, right? No secrets," Lance cooed mockingly.

"To be honest, dude, the idea of you liking someone is pretty bizarre. You seemed more interested in rebellion and stuff. . . it's just interesting hearing _you_ speak about it. I finally feel like we're bonding as a team."

"I do love a good romance!" Allura exclaimed, her hands clapping together excitingly. "Please tell us, Keith!"

"I would also be interested in how the love between Earthlings plays out," Coran added, twiddling his mustache.

Keith sighed, his pinks dusting with the lightest coating of pink and something bubbled in Lance's chest. He remembered younger Keith blushing a lot too. More than Lance had ever seen Keith do so in a lifetime. Running his hands through his hair, Keith kept his eyes fixed on his space juice. "What I said was true; I don’t really remember him. I just remember him being unconscious outside of my shack, him and I talking for a bit, him giving me some advice and crying a bit, then he collapsed on my floor and when I came back from getting help, he had disappeared. I never saw him again." Keith explained without missing a beat, before quickly adding: "Oh, and he was a good four years older than me, I'm guessing."

Keith's story was very brief and to the point. Allura looked slightly disappointed in Keith's retelling and it was obviously not what she expected. "How. . . romantic, Keith. He sounds. . . _wonderful."_

"What was his name?" Pidge asked hopefully.

Keith shrugged. "Didn’t ask."

"What was his appearance like?" Coran asked.

Once more, Keith shrugged. "My memory's hazy. I told you."

"What _did_ you know about him?" Hunk asked, thick brow raised.

Keith stopped for a moment, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips. "That he was booted from the Garrison because of behaviour problems, and so he stole a spacesuit from them," Keith explained, a tender, small smile — and a smaller blush — playing on his features. Everybody noticed it, of course.

"What kind of crappy love story is that!" Pidge shouted, banging her fist on the table. "I waited a good _week_ to hear _that—! Stop blushing, Keith! There's nothing romantic about harbouring a felon who stole equipment from the Garrison—!"_

"I think it's romantic," Coran gushed.

Hunk made a realisation noise. "So that's where your disciplinary issues came from. This explains a lot."

"Lance, you seem rather quiet. Is everything alright?" Allura asked, sounding concerned.

"He may be feeling some side effects from the healing pod," Coran said. "Lance, are you alright?"

"I—uhm. . . _yeah._ " Cough. "I'm great. Fine— _toooootally okay._ May I be excused for a moment?" Lance's voice became an octave higher every time a word left his mouth.

Allura nodded, worry present on her features. "Of course, Lance."

Lance nodded to the group, the blush clawing up his neck every second that passed by. He needed to get _out_ of there. Lance could feel his whole face _burning_ as Keith's words echoed in his head over and over _and over and over._ Trying to cover up the blush with his arm, Lance stormed down the corridor and into his room, quickly kicking his shoes off and collapsing on his bed, burying his head in his pillow and leaving his face to blister all over.

Stupid Keith.

Lance did _not_ come back out of his room that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a few extra things you might want to know!
> 
> 1) Keith manages to get Shiro when he tries to get help for Lance, and things escalate from there.  
> 2) Keith is 12 and Lance is 16  
> 3) Keith honestly just wants some love, and since he's been getting put down a lot from his foster family (and this isn't the only time) he latches onto Lance since Lance, being the good-hearted Big Brother, is just really kind and affectionate.  
> 4) Keith doesn't sleep so his memory is bad. Very bad. 
> 
> I was going to write more but I saw it was 11,000+ words and decided to stop, haha
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!  
> (PS: if you guys want another chapter, I'd be happy to write one since I already sort've have one half-written.....)


End file.
